


Before the Dawn

by tordarroch



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Derogatory Language, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Scents & Smells, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tordarroch/pseuds/tordarroch
Summary: After two winters apart, Eivor can't wait any longer.
Relationships: Eivor/Sigurd Styrbjornson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 162





	Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my mate [kirin](https://twitter.com/Lust__Soft) and he's been drawing some good ac art so check him out. In this fic, they call each other brother A LOT but I wasn't sure how to tag it, since they're not blood-related. Also, as always, I am limited by the tags but there is talk of piss and being unwashed (on Sigurd's part, Eivor knows how to bathe). So if musky balls aren't something you enjoy, this is a warning. It is set in Norway, before they go to England.

Eivor couldn't wait until the morning. 

He knew he was to meet Sigurd at the docks come dawn but just knowing his brother was nearby meant that no matter which god he pleaded with, sleep continued to elude him. 

Eivor knew he shouldn't have been slinking around in the shadows, prowling around the edge of the great hall, listening out for the familiar rumble of his brother's snoring. Randvi had already made her disinterest in her husband clear earlier, and he hated the glee it brought him to find Sigurd passed out in the corner of the hall, slumbering on some discarded furs with an empty tankard by his feet.

It had been two winters. Two long winters since Eivor had _been_ with Sigurd, and he couldn't wait any longer. He wasn't strong enough to resist, and he had hoped Sigurd would find himself in the same mindset. Perhaps that was why Eivor couldn't sleep; maybe he had been waiting for Sigurd to visit him in the night. Waiting for his brother to cross the divide that the long seasons seemed to have hewn between them. Eivor should have known he would have found Sigurd like this; that it would fall to him to act. 

He shouldn't have expected anything more.

And he wanted to be mad about this, at Sigurd or himself. But as he unfastened his chest armour and let it fall to the ground, he felt that hot flash of disappointment turn to amusement as he took in Sigurd's slack expression. It was quiet now in the settlement, nothing but the dim light of the nearly expired candles, and the crackle of a low burning fire to keep them company. Almost romantic, but Eivor had some very unromantic ideas for the next few moments. 

He understood that they would need rest for the upcoming days, but here in the middle of this endless night, and his mind had drifted from what he needed to what he wanted. Were they even different things? Eivor needed _and_ wanted Sigurd right now. Awake or otherwise. 

Sigurd would stir eventually, but why shouldn't Eivor enjoy his prize in the meantime? A reward for not succumbing to sleep, he thought. Sigurd never let him truly spend the time on his body that Eivor craved, and after so long apart, why shouldn't he have a private moment to reacquaint himself with the man he adored more than anything or anyone else. 

Eivor stepped closer before he dropped to his knees, crawling closer to Sigurd's sleeping form and all he could do was smile as the large oaf just continued to slumber, like a giant from a tale. 

Eivor was prepared to slay the giant; to tame him and cut him down to size.

He was thankful for Sigurd's lack of armour, although his inability to jump to arms in his current state, not a weapon in sight, gave Eivor a moment's pause. Maybe he had grown sloppy over their time apart… Another smile tugged at his lips as he moved between his brother's legs, settling his hands on thighs that were noticeably thicker than his own; his gaze settling on Sigurd's slightly larger stomach protruding under the loose tunic. 

The goddess of the hunt had clearly been on Sigur's side, and for that, Eivor could only be thankful. He enjoyed his partners with meat on their bones, and the men and women who had shared their warmth with him in this period of separation had left had been a mere fraction of Sigurd's sheer girth. 

He couldn't stop his eyes from drifting south as he thought of it, his gaze greedily taking in the sight of his heavy cock hidden behind laced leather trousers. He could see the string barely holding it back, clearly loosened from when Sigurd had taken one of many pisses over the side of the verge into the water. 

Sigurd pissed like a horse when he was drunk.

Eivor felt his own dick stir in his trousers. It was stupid to get worked up over the idea of Sigurd urinating, but Eivor had a long-established habit of allowing himself a look whenever Sigurd relieved himself in his presence, and he was sure that Sigurd had shaken off the remaining droplets just a little too vigorously to not be putting on a show for him that evening. It was how they were; how they played. Neither of them would say anything, admit it, but if Sigurd hadn't passed out drunk, the night might have gone differently. 

Perhaps if Eivor too hadn't retired early something may have happened sooner... but he had been intimidated by the presence of Sigurd's new friends. Had felt somewhat shy, and admittedly ashamed of how he wanted nothing more than to ravish his brother then and there in front of them. The last thing he wanted to do was offend potential allies - not right now. 

But there were no eyes any more, and Sigurd would rise from his slumber soon, Eivor knew that. It was now just a case of how much he could get away with before Sigurd was on top of him, rutting against him like an animal in heat. And oh how he craved it, just as hungrily as Sigurd craved his mead. But sometimes the pleasure was in the waiting; the yearning. Two winters apart; Eivor could last a few more moments.

His fingers were deft as they reached out and tugged the string loose, Sigurd barely stirring, only letting out a long snore in response, and Eivor just shook his head. He hoped Sigurd's affection for him had not soured over their time away; hoped that him waking up to Eivor's mouth on his cock would prove a pleasant waking call. 

Just thinking about it was too much for Eivor, and he felt his mouth start to water. He craved the weight of Sigurd's erection in his mouth; the taste of his seed on his tongue. 

"Oh brother, forgive me, but I must," Eivor whispered under his breath, pushing Sigurd's trousers open enough to reveal the length of his thick cock nestled in a dense expanse of ginger hair. He could already smell his scent, the unwashed musk that made Eivor's taste buds tingle. "I cannot wait for you to awake from your dreams. I can only hope they are of me."

He lowered his head, resting it on Sigurd's thigh, his nose pressed against his flaccid cock as Eivor slipped his fingers under the soft flesh, gently tugging his dick out and Eivor felt himself letting out a sigh of pure content. He never had a moment to just admire the organ that brought him so much pleasure. Sigurd was hardly bashful, but he would often turn shy when it came to Eivor using his mouth. 

Letting Sigurd's cock rest against the leather of his trousers, Eivor tugged down the fabric just enough for his balls to slip out, a pocket of musty scent escaping as he shifted Sigurd's sack, and all he could do was let a small droplet of drool escape from the side of his lips. He knew he had to resist, but he wanted nothing more than to just nestle his face in his brother's crotch and inhale deeply. 

His fingers drifted to the tip of Sigurd's cock, the calloused pads pressing against the loose skin that hung over the head. His nostrils twitched as he teased the head, the lingering smell of piss wafting towards him and he bit down on his lip to suppress a moan, thoughts of how arousing it was to watch Sigurd urinate. 

He had truly become depraved in his brother's absence.

Well, more so than usual.

Darting his tongue over his lips, he wrapped his fingers around Sigurd's thick dick, appreciating the familiar feel of his silken skin, the memory of his veins. His thumb moved to the head, rubbing slowly, pressing under his foreskin as he inched closer, inhaling deeply. He could feel Sigurd's cock twitching to life, his balls radiating a heat that lured Eivor closer, his eyes fixated on the tip of his dick, watching as he managed to press just below the head and urge out a bead of fluid. 

He had to hold himself back from lurching forward to taste, but Sigurd was still snoring; Eivor could hear his laboured breathing, and he knew if he could resist a little longer, he could spend more time with his brother's cock. 

Eivor settled himself, trying to steady his breathing as he just admired the weight of Sigurd's still flaccid dick in his hand, his fingers idly toying with the head. He nosed his way closer, nestling his face against Sigurd's heavy balls as he exhaled through his nostrils, his eyes flickering to the tip again, watching as he gently pushed the loose skin over the reddened end.

He could feel Sigurd harden in his grip; knew his moments before he stirred were growing short, but while he still had the element of surprise, Eivor could no longer resist. His lust for Sigurd's taste was too vast, the force of it unstoppable, and he let himself fall to Freyja's boon as he opened his mouth and let the thick head of Sigurd's cock fall between his lips. 

Sigurd failed to rise still, but Eivor heard a grunt escape his brother's throat, both of them shifting and yet Sigurd remained trapped within his dreams. Eivor couldn't help but wonder if Sigurd's body was reacting to those dreams or to his touch, or perhaps both. He wasn't sure how much he cared though, as he finally got a taste of his brother.

His whole length was ripe with an unwashed musk, and all Eivor could do was inhale deeply, swallowing as much of Sigurd's dick as he could without making himself gag. It would be humiliating enough to be caught doing this, but to be witnesses choking on Sigurd's cock like a greedy harlot would earn him some taunts from his brother when he finally stirred. 

But with each inch he swallowed down, he found himself caring less. Sigurd could call him whatever he wished if it meant he would rise now and take him. 

Eivor reached down between his legs, unfastening his own pants with haste before he shoved his hand inside, rubbing his hard cock roughly. He never craved a gentle touch, and his own battle-hardened hands only proved to remind him of his brother's. Their touches were similar on the surface, after all, and after so long apart, he had learnt how to trick himself into thinking his right hand was not his own. 

He heard Sigurd's own breathing stop for a moment, and Eivor froze, his eyes widening as he stared up, trying to look over his broad chest but then the familiar sound of a rumbling snore echoed throughout the hall, so Eivor simply swallowed around the cock in his mouth, his hand sliding under his own balls, fingers seeking out his hole through thick hair. Even dry, Eivor couldn't stop himself from pressing his fingertip inside, teasing himself as he let his tongue rub against Sigurd's dick, tasting every inch of flesh as he continued to inhale his brother's earthy scent.

Shifting himself, Eivor moved onto his knees, rocking his own erection against his wrist as he rubbed his hole, toying with the entrance as he bobbed his head slowly, caught between trying to be quiet, while also yearning for Sigurd to join him in wakefulness. He needed his touch; needed to be manhandled and put in his place. Who was he to sneak in here and do these things to his brother, without his word or his touch? He needed Sigurd to just take him, but as he let his tongue dip under his foreskin, the lingering taste of his piss mixed with the buildup of his unwashed musk enough to make him want to linger here longer. 

"Hnn… Eivor…" 

Eivor's eyes shot up, but he couldn't bring himself to let Sigurd's cock fall from his lips, his hand slowly ceasing all movements in his own pants. He held his breath, his heart throbbing as much as the length in his mouth. However, as he saw Sigurd shudder and murmur but not wake up, it was becoming clear to Eivor that perhaps his brother's dreams were about him. 

He moved his free hand to the dense hair at the base of Sigurd's cock, letting his fingers brush through the soft expanse as he took his brother's dick deeper into his mouth again, unable to stop himself from bobbing his head, his eyes fluttering shut as the thick head brushed against the back of his throat. 

All his senses were flooded with Sigurd. He could taste him; feel him. Under the faint sounds of the crackling fire and the howling winds, he could hear him breathing; could hear the softest moans from his brother's lips as he continued his work. Each time Eivor took his cock deeper, his nose pressed into his curly pubic hair, the familiar scent he had missed so dearly filling his nostrils as he inhaled deeply. 

And as he raised his eyes again, his final sense was utterly ambushed by the sight of Sigurd staring down at him finally, his eyelids heavy, his jaw slack and his hand already reaching out for Eivor. For the briefest moment, he thought his brother would push him away; throw him off and scold him for his boldness, but instead, his hand quickly found Eivor's hair and gripped it, pushing his head down and finally forcing the full length of his cock into Eivor's willing mouth. 

"Ah, I had dreamt of a whore warming my dick, and what do I wake up to?" Sigurd rasped, his voice so low as he pushed himself up with his other hand before lifting it to join the other on Eivor's head and they both moaned as Sigurd forced Eivor's head down over and over, the loud noise of him gagging on his thick cock, the wet sounds of his drool seeping through his lips and dripping down onto Sigurd's heavy balls, slapping against his chin. "Go on, tell me what you are, brother."

Suddenly Eivor felt air flood his lungs again as his head was pulled off Sigurd's cock and all he could do was nod as a hand moved to his face, holding his cheeks and tilting his face upwards to meet his brother's gaze; his intense, hungry stare that made Eivor press his finger against his twitching hole, unable to wait for the blunt pressure he so desperately craved. 

"I'm a whore," Eivor muttered, closing his eyes as he saw Sigurd's gaze fall to where his own hand was buried in his pants, his erection hanging freely, his wrist covering his balls and he knew his trousers didn't hide what he was doing. He felt no shame, but the way Sigurd called him brother always made it feel wrong; so much more forbidden than what it was, yet he knew he was no one else's. "I'm _your_ whore."

"That you are, and now you've gotten me ready, I'm going to fuck your cunt until you bear me a son," Sigurd said as he leaned down, smirking as he nipped at Eivor's lower lip and all Eivor could do was wait for what he knew was coming, his heart racing, his blood pounding, deafening him until everything was suddenly tranquil. Eivor stopped breathing as he felt Sigurd's mouth against his, their lips fitting together perfectly, their beards brushing against each other as Sigurd deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to the back of Eivor's head, 

He knew the kiss would be fleeting; knew it couldn't last forever and he felt no ill will towards his brother as he was suddenly manhandled, his hand torn from his pants as he was thrown onto his front, Sigurd's rough hands instantly pulling down his pants and revealing his ass. 

"Now, let's see what you were playing with as you suckled on my meat, _brother_ ," Sigurd rumbled as he roughly spread Eivor's cheeks, trailing a thick finger down the hairy crease before he toyed his hole. "Mm, a dry cunt is no good, but unfortunately, I cannot make you flow like my women." He clicked his teeth. " _Brother_ needs special treatment." 

Eivor braced himself on his hands and knees, his body shaking as he waited for Sigurd's touch, his cock dripping between his legs. He knew he was going to come quickly; knew he wouldn't be able to last, but he also knew Sigurd would keep fucking him until they had both had their fill. 

He heard a rustle behind him, felt Sigurd steadied himself on Eivor's back as he leaned over to grab something to slick his cock with and Eivor waited to feel fingers inside him but instead, the hand on his back moved to his hip. 

"I'm sorry brother, I cannot wait. It took all my strength not to corner you earlier, and I drank to resist… I almost thought we wouldn't have a chance before we set off," Sigurd mumbled under his breath, and Eivor just moved his arms against the floor, resting his forehead against them as he braced himself, trying not to make a noise as he felt the thick head of Sigurd's cock against his crease, running up and down. "I knew you would come to me, though. You think yourself so clever, but you are predictable, brother. I could smell on you that you were ready for me to breed you. Two winters without my seed warming you," Sigurd continued, and Eivor felt himself tense up as he pressed the tip of his dick against his hole, his thumb pushing the head inside and Eivor just bit down on his lip, trying to suppress the cry he wanted to let out. "Look how greedy your cunt is… You haven't had anyone else feeding you, have you?" He asked, and Eivor could hear an edge of jealousy in his voice, a spark of anger that was not only heard but felt as Sigurd suddenly sheathed himself within Eivor's ass. 

"F-Fuck, B-Brother…" Eivor stammered out, biting down onto his forearm as Sigurd rutted against him. He could hear Sigurd mumbling under his breath, trying to get him to relax as he bore his weight down on Eivor's back, pressing down into him, and all he could do was pant against his arm, his eyes watering as Sigurd forced his way inside. "No one else…Not inside me. My hole… belongs to you."

"Hmm? Well, what about this, then?" Sigurd asked, and Eivor cocked his eyebrow, ready to look over his shoulder in confusion before he felt Sigurd's hand slide to his cock, grasping it roughly and the shock was enough to make his body give out, Sigurd's dick sliding in to the hilt, his balls nestling against his ass. "I was about to ask if anyone had used your little dagger, but the way you reacted to such a simple touch has me thinking I might have truly driven you mad with my cock. Is everything just for me?" 

Eivor shook his head. He wanted to protest that no, he had others, that others had found his _little dagger_ more than adequate, but just the idea that Sigurd thought he owned him was enough to make his whole body throb. He needed Sigurd, and if it meant having to give up all others, he would do it in a heartbeat. 

"Did you have fun tasting my cock?" Sigurd's voice rumbled as he pressed his chest against Eivor's back, and all he could do was arch up against him, pushing himself up off the ground with a groan, his muscles already aching as he supported the full brunt force of Sigurd fucking into him. 

Whatever Sigurd had used on his cock had made Eivor slick, his ass so easily taking his brother's thick length deep inside over and over, fucking moans from his throat with every thrust. The hand on his cock kept groping him clumsily, and he wouldn't be surprised if Sigurd was still drunk, but he didn't care. This was what he had dreamt of on those long nights alone; to feel his brother bearing down on him, taking him so ruthlessly and passionately that it would be over before it had truly begun, but he just couldn't give a fuck. 

"You couldn't even wake me before you started… Could you tell I haven't washed since I returned? I knew you would come to slobber over me like some starved wolf," Sigurd grunted out, his cock slamming into Eivor's stretched hole so frantically, his hands gripping Eivor's body so tightly as he jerked into him repeatedly. 

He didn't know what to say; wasn't sure if he could even speak. He just weakly reached back, holding onto Sigurd's muscular body as he fucked into him harder, his hand sloppily working his erection, urging it to spill forth and Eivor knew he couldn't hold back. He could feel Sigurd's chin on his shoulder, forcing his weight up so he could gaze down as Eivor reached his climax and he just threw his head back, his body convulsing in his brother's grip as he fucked him through his orgasm, his seed shooting in strong ribbons across the wooden floor. 

"So quickly, brother?" Sigurd growled against his shoulder, his hand still working Eivor's cock, squeezing every last drop from his spent dick as he continued to rut into him. It was genuinely maddening, and Eivor felt like he was losing his mind with each slam of Sigurd's hips, but he knew that even if he succumbed to these sensations, it would be a blissful way to make an exit. "It matters not, I love the feeling of your cunt twitching around me after you spend yourself."

"My appetite will never be as voracious as yours," Eivor gasped out, rocking his body backwards as he reached down and grabbed the hand off his sensitive cock, pulling it to his chest, smearing fluids down his sweat coated body as he just held Sigurd's palm over his heart. He felt Sigurd press down, felt him pull him closer, holding Eivor tight against himself as he frantically thrust into his hole. 

Eivor couldn't resist turning his head, a deep moan falling from his lips as he opened his mouth and caught Sigurd's gaze, the hungry look in his eyes enough to make Eivor's cock throb, his balls aching as he felt another wave of pleasure wash over him, joined by another jolt of passion as Sigurd surged forward, knocking him onto the ground as he clumsily captured his lips in a sloppy kiss.

But he loved it. Loved the way Sigurd's tongue slipped out and ran over his beard, his grunts coming out against his skin, hot and heavy as he fucked him harder, the sounds of their skin slapping together deafening, humiliating, as Eivor just let his brother take him. He should have been above this; should have found a real partner for himself, but no one could satisfy him like Sigurd could. It was a fact, a bond as certain as their brotherhood, and who was he to dispute such a thing?

"Are you ready to be filled, _dearest brother_?" Sigurd snarled against Eivor's lips, and he just whimpered as Sigurd bit down on his lip again, his ass pushing up against Sigurd's pounding cock, the thrusts so merciless and frantic that Eivor felt like he was going to drown. He wanted nothing more than to have Sigurd come deep inside him; for him to fuck his seed into him until he overflowed. 

"P-Please, I need you," Eivor croaked out, his voice barely audible but he knew Sigurd had heard, maybe even felt his lips as he spoke, their mouths still connected. 

Sigurd knew his body too well, his cock pressing in at just the perfect angle to make Eivor shut his eyes tight, his flaccid cock weakly trying to react as Sigurd slammed into him over and over. He could almost taste Sigurd's climax as he gulped down air, the scent of sex and Sigurd's musk overwhelming him; suffocating him. His brother's movements grew faster; the pace so punishing that Eivor just felt his body finally give out, slumping against the floor.

"Take it, brother. Take my seed deep. I want you to still be leaking when you join me on the boat come dawn!" Sigurd boomed as his hands moved to Eivor's shoulders, holding him down as he stopped trying to thrust and just rocked his body against Eivor's ass, his cock filling him to the hilt as he felt Sigurd tense up against him, followed by the sound of a loud groan and then a hot wetness seeped into every crevice as Sigurd reached his peak. 

Eivor thought that would be it, that Sigurd would collapse on top of him but instead, he heard his brother let out a deep chuckle as he rolled his hips and Eivor could already feel his hole leaking, Sigurd's fluids seeping down his balls as he let his legs fall open. His whole body felt limp and numb, but he could still feel Sigurd pushing himself up, another laugh leaving his lips as he reached down and spread Eivor's ass, revealing his overflowing hole to his brother's greedy eyes and Eivor knew he didn't have it in him to stop him from looking. 

He just lay there, trembling as Sigurd continued to slide his cock in and out, fucking his seed into Eivor's used hole. He could hear Sigurd's deep voice, mentioning something about how Eivor was his but his heart was pounding too loudly; the blood rushing around his body deafening as he just spread his legs a little further, pushing his hips up as Sigurd's softening dick finally slipped from his ass, the head dragging down his wet balls before Sigurd finally did what he always did and collapsed on top of Eivor. 

"You great oaf, you will kill me!" Eivor gasped out as the air was knocked from his lungs, the sheer weight of Sigurd's limp body atop him enough to make him want to pass out. 

"Oh, you complain, but after a performance like that, they would welcome you into Valhalla," Sigurd practically purred as he slid off Eivor's back, settling down beside him. "You know, we could move onto the bearskin, perhaps go for round two," he continued, and Eivor just rolled his eyes, rolling onto his side and perching himself on his elbow. 

"And I'm sure you will be the one to explain to the people why I am limping?" He replied, but if Sigurd pushed it, he would easily give in and allow Sigurd to take him again.

And Sigurd knew it too.

"Besides," Eivor grumbled, "you have a wife to return to. She spoke of you returning with honied breath, so it is perhaps better we end here before you end up tasting of me."

Eivor spoke candidly, but he knew Sigurd would never risk such a thing. Randvi may look the other way, but Eivor had far too much respect for her to act so brazenly. He had no desire to burn any bridges with her; no reason to. Sigurd knew this, but still, he laughed, shaking his head before he moved to capture Eivor's lips in a gentle way, the act taking him off guard for a moment. 

"Would you stay with me until I fall asleep again? I wish for my dreams to be as pleasant as they were before I woke," Sigurd mumbled against his lips, and Eivor felt a strange stirring in his stomach, the tone of his request seeming so out of character...but they had been apart two winters. Maybe he had softened. 

His rutting certainly hadn't. 

"I will stay until I have regained feeling in my legs," Eivor said with a smile, watching as Sigurd pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Oh, but if you can't feel them…" Sigurd started, placing a hand on Eivor's thigh. 

"Brother…" Eivor warned, but it was futile. Sigurd's mouth was quickly on him, kissing him deeply and Eivor felt himself once again falling into the same madness.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway, i'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/tordarroch_) if you liked my writing.


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